Sunday, January 1, 2023

Wedding Anniversary 12/31/22


Awoken this morning 

cloaked in subconscious 

resoluteness that today 

would be a day

like any other... 

Thoughts and memories 

raced in the echoing halls

of this stunted imagination

filled with past hopes and dreams 

of what could've been

Somehow this woman 

once broken by the suicide 

of a beloved man

into a million shards

emerges from mud and ash

upheld by tears bathed 

in unconditional love 

beyond human hope

She breaths

she dances

and dares to dream 

once again... 

Ⓒ Kimberly A. Wallace, January 1, 2023

Thursday, October 13, 2022

After the Storms

After the Storm

There were times I didn’t know how, or if, I would endure the ongoing consequences of my husband’s suicide. Or how I would survive the loss of homes I thought I owned. Or how I would rise, once more, and continue. Just continue. Some times, my next day or even moment felt unattainable, like air when you’re caught in the under tow of a wave. 

These onslaughts of what seemed like timeless duration felt like storms to withstand. My power, I thought, could be found in the way I braved the pounding truth of these storms. 

An otherworldly spiritual calm finds me when thunder melts into rain. I no longer wonder if the storm will come. I KNOW the storm will come. Within the squall, my edges are nonlinear and yet precisely: me and not me, discovering the courage to breath in the midst of seemingly drowning.

As the winds tear at my layers, I sense the part of me that persists—a part untouchable by the storm. My great victory is in choosing to love and keep loving. Choosing to live this moment and continuing to choose to live in each future moment. To cling to hope and faith and make the space for them to flourish. To get closer to the strength of what cannot be destroyed by storms. I glean and prepare for the next storm by surviving this one. 

I am what remains after the skies clear and God kisses me.

© Kimberly Anne Wallace October 13, 2022

Monday, March 21, 2022


Today, standing 

under the mvuli tree 

where once I'd spread 

my husband's ashes

In this, his favorite place

My now older hand 

tentatively touched 

the creviced bark

as if somehow 

I were wistfully 

touching his face


I looked out 

over the expanse 

of lake Victoria

and ruminated 

at how I believed 

a time ago

This lake could never hold 

my watershed of tears

The breeze rustled the leaves 

of this peaceful tree 

Gently whispering 

caresses around me

As though my beloved 

was once again here

Memories of adventures 

and dreams we shared

Reminded me of what 

death and time had stolen

Resolutely I stand 

in the face of my tomorrow's

Choosing to live 

my life as if each day 

might contain moments 

of my everlasting breath

© Kimberly Anne Wallace March 21, 2022

Friday, March 12, 2021

9th Anniversary of Rob's death

Remembering Rob Wallace….

Today, March 12, 2021 marks the 9th anniversary of my late husband’s suicidal death.  The grief is no longer a bottomless pit of pain. Although, there remains a dull ache that echoes in the holes of my heart, once filled by the love of my husband.  The loss remains. 

Did you know that Rob’s favorite place in the whole world, was Uganda? He loved Uganda!  The people, the country, the rain. He loved to play his soprano sax in churches that I ministered in as he ushered in the presence of god. He especially loved the melodic haunting dirges his saxophone made when he played in the rain. Rob would intentionally choose to join me on the “country club” portions (electricity and hot water on demand, porcelain flushing toilets, hotels, expat homes and good food) of my ministry trips to Africa. He didn’t like roughing it… He always left going “up country” or “in the bush” part of my trips for me, alone. 

One of Rob’s greatest desires was to purchase some property and build a home, so that we could retire here in Uganda. He didn’t get to see that desire fulfilled. Somehow, he believed the lie that the anxiety, depression and the emotional pain he experienced, would never go away… He answered yes to the dark seduction of suicide, which stole his hopes and dreams. This pains my heart.

I was remembering, in my mind’s eye, what Rob looked like. His soft eyes, his slightly twisted smile and the little wrinkles around his ears from maintaining his embouchure playing the saxophone. I then tried to hear his voice… the way he called my name when he felt endearing towards me or the way he laughed at his own jokes… Tears welled up in my eyes at the realization, I couldn’t recall what his voice sounded like. I felt a sadness and almost a sense of guilt because I couldn’t hear Rob’s voice in my memories. How could this be?

I am reminded that grief is the loss and mourning is the remembering.  If mourning is the remembering… will I forever mourn?

“Winter” in Uganda

Winds laced with Sahara sand

cloaking the morning sunrise

stealing glorious colors 

normally stretched across the horizon

Instead, a breath like fog

leaves behind 

delusions of rain

shrouding Lake Victoria’s 

picturesque view

with this sense 

of ominous change

© Kimberly Anne Wallace 2021

Morning has Broken

Waking to sounds 

of distant rolling thunder

Smelling pummeling rain 

Cleansing fog like winds 

of sahara dust 

from hills and valleys

leaving sighs 

of green freshness

and pungent red earth…

Oh how I have missed 

Ugandan mornings

© Kimberly Anne Wallace 2021

Wednesday, March 11, 2020

8th Anniversary of Rob's Suicidal Death

Gentle yet incessant breezes
and saltiness of spitting tears
railroad my thoughts,
my feelings,
my sense of being
to a place
of emotional saturation
that few
have the Grace
to stand
in a truth poured out,
not often caught

Deep desires of
one's own humanity
to be known
and desperately
yet all the while
misnomers sweep away
silent hope
as time ebbs and flows
like watercolors
swooshed on paper
far too wet
left in its wake
the faintest hint
of color
to the pain of a life
breathed and forsaken
taking the gift
of what might have been
to a place
of this unrequited
scourging question,

© copyright Kimberly Anne Wallace, March 11, 2020

Thursday, August 15, 2019

August 15, 2019

Taking time out of my ministry and travels in hopes to finish writing this long awaited book! Is it in vain?

It is unbelievable that almost 8 years have passed since Rob's suicidal death. One might presume that the hard tearful grief is over and the time of mourning could be non existent. Not quite...

I have been pouring over written content, attempting to not take things out of timeline or context. In doing so, I feel like someone has put gorilla tape on my scarred wounds, pressed it in place with an iron setting on wool, as if to meld the tape into my very being. In the midst of  this grueling experience of rewrites and editing, the revisited pain has been like ripping the gorilla tape, my skin and my heart off of the depths of my soulful emotional being.

But then, this morning I received this from a friend:

"Good Morning Kimberly,
My cousin posted his 19 year old son committed suicide just 2 months ago and his folks found him. So tragic, so sad, such a loss of his potential.
It was devastating. He dealt with a chemical imbalance, but seemed to have things under control. I just hate Satan and how he lies. I told my cousin about your experience and your book and they said they want a copy. Your pain will bring comfort and healing. God bless you as you continue on this journey to help heal others.
Of course I thought of you and this blog is so good.
Be encouraged to finish your book. Sadly there are too many families who need to hear your words.
Thinking of you today.
Praying for you today."
And so my spirit's consensus is that I MUST push through, slog on and complete this writing...

Wednesday, November 14, 2018

Grey clouds ride
on hooves of thunder
sheets of rain
cover early morn
yet daylight prevails
on the breath of dawn
as today's wind
rustles once silent leaves
of the Mvule tree
on the side of a hill
laying claim to peace
in the solace
of a life denied

© November 15, 2018 Kimberly Anne Wallace